Technical Difficulties
by WhimsicalShmoo
Summary: Emotions and people never were Kiku's forte. And life never had allowed him to ignore such things. AU
1. Chapter 1

Math has always been a strong point of Kiku's. At least, until this year. Functions, long-division, algebra: it all came with such little effort to him. Geometry, Algebra I and II were passed with flying colors, effortlessly. There is just something about the way in which trigonometry is used in Pre-calculus that doesn't sit well with him. Not well at all. The whole year he has struggled with the course, barely managing to keep a solid A-.

His midterm was a nightmare: a "C", the first of his life, and not even a plus, but a minus. Kiku can still see his older-brother-turned-caretaker's face when he heard. _Pitying_, of all things.

_"It's alright, aru. I never even took Pre-Calculus in high school. The fact you passed is—"_

Kiku shudders to himself, cutting the memory short. Wang Yao, of all people to be pitied by. That was the final straw. He refuses to let that happen again.

And so he stayed after everyday for nearly a week, seeking extra help, a measure he has never before needed to take. Surely those hard hours have gotten him somewhere, even if his teacher continues to be as confusing, mixing up numbers and giving the wrong problems. Surely it isn't her fault. She is trying, he can tell.

The second semester turns out much the same. Well by many people's standards, but mediocre by Kiku's own. He knows he should be happy with anything in the A-range, knows that many of his classmates would have done anything to achieve such. But to Kiku, it simply isn't enough. Not at all. Especially in his junior year, the year colleges look at.

And so the weeks passed until June, and his final trial of Pre-Calculus. The final exam, his final chance to prove himself, and show Wang Yao that he doesn't need his pity. Not at all.

The day starts off well. Sleepy, but well-prepared, Kiku stumbles out of bed at six in the morning, preparing for school methodically before jogging to the bus.

His exam even goes well. At least, as far as he can tell it does. None of the problems give him more than a few minutes of trouble, and his answers seem right, as much as an answer can seem right at this stage, with the lack of clean numbers.

With a smile, he hands the completed sheet in, giving one last glance to the rows of neat work filled out in his tiny, dark, precise handwriting. This has to be one of Kiku's favorite feelings. When the work is done, thoroughly so and correctly (with any luck), just a few minutes left in the exam period for him to relax and enjoy his sense of fulfillment. Perhaps scribble out a few little doodles in the empty portion of his math notebook. A wonderful feeling, truly.

He can't wait to get home. Pre-Calculus is his last final, the final step towards completing his junior year. Needless to say he has spent the week studying every spare moment, preparing himself for these weighty exams to best ensure success. There has been no time for his computer, no time for that treasured hobby of his that usually takes up his free time after school and on weekends. But now there is all the time in the world, relatively. The empty days of the summer are a welcome and long-anticipated break.

Kiku sighs to himself, in satisfaction, as the bell "rings"—it is an electronic buzz, hardly a ring—and he makes his way out the door.

"Hey!" the Asian boy turns around, knowing the voice's owner before he sees the face.

"Hello," Kiku greets pleasantly, shifting his messenger bag on his shoulder as he maneuvers through the stream of students towards his locker. There are a few notebooks in there he has yet to grab, if he remembers correctly.

"Do you wanna come over later? I was thinking of inviting a couple of the guys to play some videogames and stuff," Alfred inquires brightly, expectantly following the other boy through the teeming masses.

"Ah…" Kiku hums pensively, trying to decide the best way to decline. "I'm sorry, but I had other plans for this evening. Perhaps some other time."

The blond sighs, visibly deflating. "That's what you always say. I know how it is, you little computer geek." A teasing sentiment is back in his voice by the end of the sentence, and so the insult is of little effect, especially as it is mostly true.

"Pot calling the kettle black," is all Kiku responds in a passive tone, the slightest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He narrowly dodges a football player as he reaches his destination, habitually inputting the combination.

"I'll make it over sometime, I promise," Kiku further answers when Alfred doesn't immediately brighten up.

It has the opposite of the desired effect, earning another of those sighs from the taller boy. "I know, I know," he replies absently, and not without a tinge of disappointment. Quite more than a tinge, actually.

"I'll see you around, then, I guess," Alfred bids his goodbye, and is gone before Kiku can make a further apologetic attempt. A brief anxiety flares up in his gut for a moment, but thoughts of his computer soon push it away. A whole three months to spend on it…

He gets off the bus, enjoying the slight breeze on his face, tugging at his hair. Nothing can ruin his mood now, not even a stream of near-rhetorical questions from his elder brother about his test as he enters the house. No, not even that.

He stows his remaining books in the corner of his room, to be sorted through at a later date, and boots up his computer.

And that is when it happens. Or rather _doesn't_ happen.

His computer goes through all the proper motions of starting up, the mechanisms whirring, and the blue lights shining pleasantly, as it passes through the opening screens. But right where the Windows screen is supposed to be, there is just darkness. It doesn't appear.

_Perhaps it is being slow_, is Kiku's first line of reasoning. Surely that is the case. Computers can sometimes be finicky, and it must be groggy after so many days in rest, Kiku reasons. He just needs to give it a minute.

And so he does. _Several_ minutes: nothing occurs. And then several more, and still nothing happens. When the hour mark is reached, Kiku begins to panic. Not frantically, surely, just a little. Only a little, because with the malfunction of his computer, his fond plans for the summer are going up in a mushroom cloud.

He restarts it, hoping it will start up as normal, proving everything a bad dream. It whirs, the lights glow nicely, and the opening screens pass. Only to show blackness when the Windows one should appear.

Kiku is in shock. The panic has passed, and he is staring at the blank screen, brain cells refusing to accept this new information. There's no logical reason for his computer to be doing this, no logic at all. So really, it isn't happening. Because things are logical. The world is logical.

He convinces himself of this as he fumbles for his mobile, flipping through the contact list until he settles on a number that is all too familiar to him, although he hasn't called it in months.

"Kiku?" he sounds surprised, and just a little hopeful, a change from their recent encounter. "What's up? Did you decide to come after all?"

"Alfred, I…" and Kiku clears his throat, the words catching on something. They aren't tears, no, he would never cry about something as trivial as this. Something as…

"Are you okay?" Alfred's voice is suddenly alarmed, and no, those can't possibly be sobs working their way out of his mouth and into the receiver. That can't possibly be the case, because Kiku simply doesn't cry easily, and it's just a computer, and it's fine anyway, because there's no logical reason for it to be acting this way…

But why else does Alfred sound so alarmed, impossibly so?

_Impossible…_

"Kiku, don't hang up," Alfred issues urgently, the shuffle of keys evident to anyone paying the slightest bit of attention. Which Kiku is not. "I'll be right over. Stay on the phone."

And just like that, the first tear in years drips out of the corner of Kiku's eye.

* * *

**Based on a true story. Really. Sort of just a random muse. I need practice writing Japan, and so I decided to start this. **

**I don't know how regular updates will be. We'll see. Let me know what you guys think, and if it's worth continuing. **

**As for any of my FCTH readers reading this…I'll be back on that story once my computer is fixed. The textbook is on its way. **


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm fine, Alfred," Kiku insists for what must be the eighth time, from where he is sitting on his bed. "I just over reacted, I…" He stops then, mouth hanging open slightly for a moment, prepared to continue the lost train of thought. He closes it, turning his head.

"You just…" Alfred is leaning back in the rolling computer chair, hands over his eyes. "God, Kiku. A computer? I don't think I've ever seen you cry before. I thought someone _died_, or something. That _you_ were dying."

"I'm sorry," the smaller boy whispers, not turning to look at his friend. Out of the corner of his eye he can see the shadows moving, the creak of the chair as Alfred presumably shifts position.

There's a click as the blond presses the power button. A whir of technology running smoothly. If Kiku doesn't look, his computer sounds just as it always does when it's on. Healthy, and normal…

A faint "tsk" of disappointment passes through Alfred's mouth as he presumably sees the problem, turning around. "You don't happen to have a screwdriver, do you?"

"…A screwdriver?" Kiku repeats, as if not understanding. He turns back towards the room's other occupant. "I think there might be one downstairs. What do you need it for?"

"I'm going to open it up and see how it all looks on the inside…" Alfred trails off as he notices the look of shock on Kiku's face. "What? I'll be careful with it. I'm used to taking them apart and stuff. I put mine together myself!"

"Ah…" Kiku hums noncommittally, getting to his feet. "I'll go see if I can find one."

Yao is sitting at the kitchen table, looking up with rapt interest at the screen. Some sort of Hello Kitty thing, most likely. Nothing else would interest him enough for him to not even glance up upon Kiku's entrance.

Ignoring his older brother, Kiku goes to the farthest right drawer, rummaging among the miscellaneous objects. It takes awhile for him to find it. Long enough that the shuffling of various items draws Yao's attention from the screen.

"Kiku?" he turns around after hitting 'pause'. "What are you doing?"

The younger one turns around, indirectly displaying the tool in his hand as an answer.

His older brother frowns in bewilderment, looking from the red-handled object to Kiku's face, and back. "Why?"

"Alfred's going to take a look at my computer," Kiku answers, making his way towards the stairs.

"Oh…I thought I heard the door," Yao shrugs to himself, turning back to the TV, but not hitting 'play'. "You two better behav—"

"Don't finish that sentence," Kiku cuts off his older brother, coloring to the tips of his ears. Yao sends him a quick teasing grin, before restarting his program.

The younger boy shakes his head, unwilling to let his older brother's baseless insinuations get to him. There are more important issues at stake.

Wordlessly, Kiku hands the screwdriver to Alfred, standing by awkwardly as his friend flips the console over to get better access at the screws. The smaller boy winces.

"Relax, Kiku!" the blond grins that reassuring grin of his, the one he always shows Ivan before swiping his books the moment his back is turned. "I'm an expert!"

Kiku tries to allow himself to be reassured. Surely the smile must have a different meaning in such a different context? Alfred does know a thing or two about the mechanics of computers. And he wouldn't purposefully harm a friend's computer. Definitely not.

But it is his computer, his most prized possession without a doubt. He should be worried about it, shouldn't he? Of course he should.

Exhaling, trying to expel the tension and butterflies from his stomach, Kiku turns to his bookshelf and starts scanning through the manga. _Death Note, Bleach, Zombie-Loan, Spiral_… The titles blur before his eyes. Meaningless words. He can't seem to get his mind to concentrate. Absently, he pulls a volume off the shelf at random.

When he turns around, he takes care not to look at Alfred, only plopping down on his bed, back against the wall. He doesn't want to see it being dissected, its lifeless carcass being invaded by foreign instruments.

'It's just a computer…just _my_ computer…_my computer_.'

He shakes his head, trying to concentrate on the black and white page. The pictures look dull and uninteresting. No matter how hard he tries, the characters swim, refusing to align themselves in a logical order.

Alfred glances up from his work after several moments, in Kiku's direction. Only to be met with the cover of 07-Ghost, Volume 3. He doesn't have the heart to tell the other he's reading it upside down.

If only he could figure out what was wrong with this machine. He hates to see any of his friends upset, even more so when he can't do anything to help. And Kiku cares so much about his computer. More so than Alfred had already thought, at any rate.

Sighing, he looks back down at the wires and gadgets, at a loss. Everything seems in order, physically, so it must be something internal. A virus or something, maybe. Unfortunately, programs and the actual computer stuff have never much been his strong suite. Much more up Kiku's alley, and if Kiku hadn't been able to fix it…

"You weren't downloading porn or something, were you?" Alfred teases, trying to make it a joke.

Flushing visibly, Kiku lowers the book. He doesn't say anything, just fumbling for words.

"No denial?" fair eyebrows lift, skeptical. "Kiku, le gasp! I never thought that about you! What was it? Kitty-girl_ hentai_ or something?"

"N-No…" the Asian manages to stutter, shaking his head.

"Then what?" Alfred continues, grinning. He hadn't expected his jibe to actually be _true_. "Come on, you can trust me!"

"I mean…n-no," the smaller boy clarifies, continuing to shake his head with new vehemence. "No, I haven't been downloading anything…l-like that."

"Whatever you say~" the blond chimes back in a teasing voice. Skillfully, he places everything back in its correct spot, before screwing the machine back together and standing it upright again.

Two sets of eyes eagerly watch the screen as Alfred reboots it.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"…!" Kiku's mouth opens in some sort of horrified, not-scream. Just hanging there, aghast.

Alfred is in a similar frame of mind. He knows he didn't do anything wrong, he knows that, but then why…?

"S-sorry!" it is his turn to stutter, scratching sheepishly at the back of his neck. "I don't know what happened. Everything's in place! I put it back together correctly..."

He nervously trails off, not knowing what else to say. The way Kiku is looking at him…!

"Hey," he claps the other on the arm, earning a significant jolt. "Everything's going to be fine, I promise. We'll call troubleshooting or something. Later. But for the time being…my invitation still stands! Do you want to change your answer, seeing as you…no longer have plans?"

Kiku is dumbstruck by the blatant-ness. But grateful in a way. If it weren't for Alfred, he probably would have spent the night staring at a wall. Or his computer, rather, hoping to get it to work via mind power.

Still, he can't even fathom going elsewhere and enjoying himself while his computer is like this. But what excuse does he have? This would be the ideal time to come through on that 'sometime' promise. He doesn't have anything else to do, with school over.

"I…suppose so," Kiku replies after an extended pause. When did he last go out somewhere? Has he ever even been over to Alfred's? He thinks he must have been, surely.

"Wohoo!" Alfred cheers, throwing a fist into the air. "You'll like it, I promise. It's been so long since we last hung out! All the guys probably miss you, too. In fact…I can't even remember the last time we were all together."

"Neither can I," Kiku admits, suddenly feeling a bit sick with nerves. It's been so long. Can he even remember how to act around other people outside of school? Apart from Alfred and Yao, that is.

"Don't worry!" the blond assures, as if reading his mind. It catches Kiku off-guard: Alfred is not one to read minds, or do anything even remotely in that direction. "There won't be that many people. You're always such a hermit!"

"A-all right," Kiku stutters, allowing himself to smile ever so slightly. Perhaps this will not be a bad thing, after all.

"I think people should actually be getting there about now…" he says, as if to himself. "Do you mind if I just drive you over?"

"I…" Kiku hesitates, doing a bit of mental math. Alfred has had his license since some point near the end of freshman year. So it should be legal. "I suppose."

"Awesome!" grinning brightly, Alfred grabs the smaller boy by the wrist and tugs him out the door. They are down the stairs before Kiku can protest.

"I'm borrowing Kiku!" Alfred calls towards wherever Yao is. Probably still in the kitchen.

"Okay!" Yao's voice returns absently. So absently, Kiku is afraid the other isn't even listening properly.

"Goodbye!" Kiku shouts, as much as he can shout—he's not a very loud person—but it gets Yao's attention. Funny that.

"Go on!" Kiku can just see the smirk on his older brother's face. "I can't remember the last time you've left, apart from school. It will be good for you~!"

"Y-yes," Kiku responds, so quietly he's rather certain his brother can't even hear him.

Sensing the conversation is more or less finished, and ready to leave, Alfred yells a final "Bye!" before dragging the Asian out the front door.

Kiku hopes Alfred is a better driver than his personality seems to indicate. He really hopes so.

* * *

**Chapter two done! Don't except updates to be this consistent…I'm kind of making it up as I go along =.=' Thank you to all who faved/alerted/reviewed!**


	3. Chapter 3

"Alfred, please!" Kiku manages to grit out, a bit breathlessly. "Slow down a little!"

His knuckles are white with anxiety as he grips the armrests on either side of him. He can see the statistics flashing before his eyes, the stories he's been told, the videos they've watched in class…

_The passenger gets hit…the passenger always gets hit…always…_

As if sensing his train of thought, Alfred slows a little. A few more seconds and he actually stops. Kiku is curled in on himself, eyes screwed shut, braced for impact. It isn't until he feels a warm hand on his shoulder that he gathers the courage to allow his eyelids to flicker open.

They're in front of a house, a fairly small one. Not much larger than his own. It looks vaguely familiar, and Kiku knows then that he's been here before, albeit not in quite some time…

"I didn't know you were so afraid of cars," Alfred muses aloud, a fragment of an apology interlacing the words. Kiku returns his attention to the blond.

"I'm not, I just…you were going so fast, I-"

"Thirty-five isn't that fast," Alfred interrupts, a little concern entering his tone. "It's above the speed limit, but…" He trails off, waiting for the other boy to supply the information in question.

"I…" Kiku sighs, uncurling a bit until his spine rests back against the seat, but he keeps his head down, looking away. "My brother…is not the best driver. I just…I just…"

"I understand," Alfred inputs, saving his friend from another several minutes of stuttered explanations. "You should've told me. I'd have been more careful."

"It's all right," Kiku responds, and he means it. The tremors are already gone for the most part, and his mind feels clear for the moment, fear having chased all his thoughts away.

"Come on, let's see if anyone's here yet," Alfred gets out of his door, Kiku emerging from his own before the blond can make it over to his side. He's glad to be on solid ground again. It feels so safe, so firm beneath his feet.

There are other cars parked in the driveway, around four or so at first glance. Kiku wonders if his friend truly hasn't noticed, or if he just doesn't care to mention it.

In his previous panic, Kiku forgets to be nervous about entering the party. He subconsciously knows other people are there, besides Arthur with whom Alfred lives. He knew that from the moment he saw the cars. But for whatever reason, the information doesn't register, doesn't take that last step from thought to reaction. Not until he walks in the door, that is.

"Kiku!" comes an excited cry the moment the shorter boy steps in the door. It's followed in quick succession by two arms wrapping around him in an embrace, so swiftly, in fact, that he is unable to prepare retaliation.

"A-Ah…Feliciano," Kiku stutters out, trying his best to convey his discomfort at being hugged, while subtly attempting to remove himself physically. "It's good to see you, too, but if you would please-"

An exasperated sigh is heard from behind the ecstatic Italian. "Leave him alone, Feliciano." The voice is gruff, but softened with a sort of exasperation formed only through years of repetition and the admission to oneself that sometimes, things will just be as they are.

"Hey, Ludwig!" Alfred greets with a wave. "I didn't expect to see you here. Or Feli, actually. Not that I mind you guys being here, I just-"

"My brother wanted me to come," the tallest male explains promptly, running a hand through his slicked back hair. "He said I needed to get out of the house more." There is no disguising the slight sarcasm in his tone. Kiku has to wonder at the cause behind it.

"And you invited Antonio, so he ended up asking Lovi to come with him, and Lovi would only come on the condition I came as well, because he wanted Ludwig to come so that he could play against him," Feliciano elaborates in a string so fast, its intelligibility is a bit compromised. "Though, I would've come anyway, since Ludwig was coming. Ve~…I didn't think you were coming, Kiku. Not that I'm not glad you did, I'm just a bit surprised, I mean, you normally-"

"I am having some computer troubles at the moment," Kiku responds, having slipped away from the Italian during his dialogue. "I had nothing else to do, so I figured…"

Feliciano nods understandingly, with a slight bit of sympathy. He knows enough about the Asian to know this must be bothering him more than he is letting on.

"Hey, potato bastard, get the hell back in here!" comes the unmistakable voice of the other Italian. What a wonder two brothers can be so different. "I was in the middle of kicking your ass, and now you're afraid to come back and face your doom!"

"I hope you don't mind that we started without you." Ludwig runs a palm over his face, as Feliciano continues with his justification. "My brother was just so excited to play and-"

"It's fine!" Alfred waves a hand dismissively. "The more the merrier. Anyone else-"

"Francis, you stay on your couch, I stay on mine," comes an answer from the other room. "That was what we agreed on."

"Relax!" comes the response. "I am just sitting next you. Surely there is no harm in that?"

"There wouldn't be, if that were all, but you don't-"

"I think that's most everyone then. I was going to invite Yong Soo, but on the off chance you were coming…" Alfred smiles at Kiku, before heading off towards what is presumably the kitchen. "I'll get snacks!"

Kiku stands there for a moment, as Ludwig goes back into the living room. Not only is he glad his friend ended up not inviting the Korean, he is surprised Alfred has shown such foresight. It is not a common occurrence for him. Still, it is no secret that Kiku is not very fond of Yong Soo. It isn't anything personal, really, just how the other acts in his presence. Kiku is sure the boy must be quite pleasant around others, but his lack of respect for Kiku's…personal space is something the Asian was never very fond of dealing with.

His thoughts are interrupted by a gentle tug on his wrist. With a start, he realizes Feliciano has been talking to him, though not in a way that requires that much attention. He is currently convincing himself of the possibility that Alfred will let him make some pasta, as long as the other has some, which he is sure he must because everyone has some sort of pasta, somewhere, unless they are unable to eat gluten, but even then there are alternatives, and that is not very likely anyway…

Kiku follows along behind the other, nodding in a mixture of amusement and vague agreement. It has been awhile since he's seen Feliciano, or any of his other companions, outside of school. He wouldn't say he has missed them, exactly, but it is nice to see them again.

His older brother was right, as much as he hates to admit it. It is about time he got out of the house to interact with people in real life.

"Alfred!" They are in the kitchen, now, Feliciano making his way across it to the shelves and going through them without a qualm, searching for the desired item. "Do you have any pasta? I was wondering if I could make some."

"Uh…sure," Alfred pokes his head out from the cabinet he's currently looking around in. "There should be some spaghetti in that middle cabinet, there." He grabs a few more items, adding them to his pile of junk food, before scooping the lot into his arms and making his way back towards the living room.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Kiku asks, bobbing along next to his friend, anxious of the precariously balanced stack. It isn't the weight he's worried about—Alfred is strong enough to carry it all, no doubt—but rather the physics of the situation. That many boxes shouldn't be able to stay that way without falling over. Especially at the rate the blond is walking.

"I'm fine!" the taller boy insists, and so he is, managing to settle all the foodstuffs on the coffee table with nary a mishap. "Just grab a seat somewhere, and relax. Make yourself at home!"

Kiku carefully makes his way into the living room, careful to avoid the game console wires strewn about as he makes his way over to an empty seat on the farther couch. Consistent shooting sounds from the system, with even more nonstop shouts from those playing: Lovino, Ludwig, Gilbert, and Arthur from the looks of it. That's odd…he never put Arthur down as the videogame type. And Halo, of all things. Not a bad game, but definitely not something he would have put up the older boy's alley.

And so the evening passes, Kiku eventually cycling in to shoot his fair share of Flood and whatnot. After a while they switch to the Wii. Feliciano comes in with his vat of spaghetti, scooping nearly half of it into a bowl for himself before squeezing onto the couch between Ludwig and Gilbert. He snuggles up to the former, ignoring the fact that he is playing, quickly maneuvering his character away from Lovino's.

The older Italian is shouting all manner of insults, particularly something about the German not deserving Mario as a character. Kiku does his best to help Ludwig out by sending Marth after Lovino's character, which is Luigi, ironically enough.

At some point, Kiku begins to feel a bit drowsy. He struggles to stay awake by concentrating on the game. It's not his turn to play, and watching does little to keep his attention. He needs to stay awake, he thinks. Not only would it be rude to fall asleep like this, but he also needs to get back. It must be getting late, and as much as Yao always wants him out of the house, he also wants him back at reasonable enough times, so that he can go to bed without worrying about his younger sibling.

Last he checked, it was nearing 11. Surely it must be well past that by now. He'll ask Alfred about it as soon as this game is over, as the blond is playing in it. As soon as it's over, he tells himself, his eyelids drooping closed longer and longer with each blink growing slower and slower. He's surprised the shouts and general noise are not doing much to keep him awake. The couch is so comfortable, and the temperature is so pleasant. He was up so late studying last night, and getting up early this morning for school. He feels so impossibly weary all of a sudden, and his eyelids continue sliding shut…feeling heavier…and…heavier…

Without really registering it, Kiku drifts off into a deep, dreamless sleep, all thoughts of leaving and social anxiety fading immediately. Along with those of his computer.

* * *

**I warned you not to count on regular updates. I've been busy, really, is all. And my muse has been absent, though I'm not sure if my ability to write has come back with it. I hope this chapter came out well, and I apologize for the vagueness on Halo. I only ever played the first game, and that was quite a while ago, now. Super Smash Brothers is definitely more my thing. **

**Thank you to all that have reviewed. It's heart-warming to hear all the little anecdotes people have about their computer troubles. It is a difficulty we all share at one point or another, I think.**


	4. Chapter 4

"I don't want to talk to you." The voice is full of emotion, such strong, heart-wrenching emotion, but Kiku has never been good at understanding others, not really. For the life of him, he can't figure out what it is. He can't put a name to the sentiment.

"Arthur, listen, just listen," he hears himself calling, pushing against the door. It's imperative he sees the other right now, and talks to him. Absolutely necessary.

"Just leave," the response comes. The two words sound so different from how they usually emerge from the Brit's mouth, so foreign. "I can't…I can't see you right now."

"Arthur, please…just let me speak," Kiku begs, pressing his diminutive weight against the wood as if it will make a difference. "Please, Arthur…that is all I ask."

"Fine," comes the voice after a pause. A surge of relief washes over Kiku, followed in quick succession by a tsunami of dismay as he opens his mouth to speak and…

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"I'm waiting," somehow those two words are not bristled, not impolite. Not at all how they should be.

He opens his mouth again, tries to talk, tries to say something, but no words emerge. It's like trying to talk underwater, all of a sudden. Only harder.

"Kiku?"

The panic isn't helping. He needs to say something, needs to…

"Kiku…I'm sorry."

Sorry…sorry for what? The Asian feels heavy, as if he is emerging from underneath cement, wet sand, something thick. He moves a little, trying to get his mind out of the murk and cloudiness. Of sleep? That must be it. A dream, a dream…

"I'm sorry for everything that happened. I shouldn't have…I shouldn't…"

Someone is speaking, Kiku realizes. Arthur. Arthur is speaking. And he's here with him, sitting on the couch beside him. There's something on top of him, too. Something warm, but fairly light. A blanket?

"I…" and then Arthur sighs, the whispering coming to a halt. Kiku's eyes flicker open then, as if of their own accord.

Arthur balks.

"Arthur-san, I…what were you…?" As Kiku is fumbling for the correct words, brain still sluggish with traces of sleep, Arthur leaps to his feet from where he was sitting beside the smaller boy.

"How much did you hear?" He slurs out, in a panic, ear-tips bright crimson as the rest of his face becomes increasingly more so.

The Asian weighs his options, weighs Arthur's reaction, before going with an option he would not usually chose.

"Nothing." A lie. But it is for the other's own good. "Are you all right? You don't look well…"

"I'm going to bed," is all Arthur responds, though the look of relief on his face is tangible. "G…Goodnight, Kiku."

"Goodnight, Arthur-san," the Asian responds, with the slightest bit of a smile, before the other's words compute in his brain.

Good_night_…

It's quiet, too quiet for anyone else to be here. They must have left. And he fell asleep. Fell asleep, and now…

_The time!_

Frantically, he gets to his feet and searches for a clock. The cable box is blinking a glowing "3:41" at him. He hopes Alfred forgot to reset it after the last power failure.

"Alfred?" he calls, wandering out into the hallway in search of another time telling device.

"Hm?" a blond head pokes out of the kitchen, swallowing something. "Oh, Kiku, you're up. I was just grabbing a snack. Do you want anything?"

"No, I'm fi-" it is then the Asian's eyes catch on the clock inside the kitchen, confirming his suspicions. "Uwah! It's nearly four in the morning. Yao will be out of his mind, worrying…I've got to get back. Why didn't someone wake me, I-"

"Chill!" Alfred calms, holding out his hands in a gesture of peace, his eyebrows raising at the tone of panic in the smaller boy's voice. "Arthur said you might be tired, knowing how much you push yourself for exams. We figured we'd let you sleep."

"A-ah," Kiku stutters, re-gathering his thoughts. "May I use the-"

"I called your brother after everyone left. He said it was fine if you just stayed here the night," the blond interjects, guessing the other's question before it is asked. "That's OK, isn't it? I mean, I can drive you back if you'd rather-"

"N-no…" Kiku glances at the clock, as if once again trying to confirm to himself it's really so late. "I am fine. I just…I do not wish to impose."

"And you aren't," the blond assures, smiling his best grin. "I was just gonna head to bed, though. Is there anything you need? You look a little spooked…"

"No, thank you. I am fine," the brunette repeats, feeling like a broken record.

"If you're sure. I could make some, uh…tea for you or something. Artie must have some around here."

Kiku opens his mouth, ready to decline the offer, as would be polite, but the thought of some tea right now appeals to him greatly, shaken up as he is. Slowly, he gives a reluctant nod. "If…if it would not be too much trouble, that is."

"No touble at all!" Alfred assures, turning to rummage in the cabinet. Kiku watches as he finds a tea bag, locates a mug to put it in, and sets it in the microwave after filling it with water. _Beep…beep, beep. _The microwave comes to life with a whir.

A whir, so different from that of his computer's, but…

"Relax, sit down," the younger boy leans against the counter, motioning. "Did you have a nightmare or something?"

A nightmare. Kiku supposes it was to some extent. A half-forgotten memory, experienced again through the distortion of the dream world. "A-ah…something like that." He sits down.

"Oh…" The microwave goes off then, interrupting Alfred's wordlessness. He grabs the mug, popping a spoon into it before depositing the concoction in front of his friend. Kiku watches the steam rise, stirring it absently.

"Was it about your computer?"

"…a-ah…" the smaller boy stammers, pondering the merits of each course of action. He doesn't want to bring this up again. Not when they finally managed to put it behind them all. To bury the hatchet between Alfred and Arthur. "Yes…it was. But I am fine now…just…" Two lies in one night…

"I know," the blond smiles, that warm smile of his, clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'll take another look at it tomorrow. We'll figure something out.

"Thank you," Kiku wraps his hands around the mug, relishing the warmth. What an unusually cool day for summer. "For the tea and…for…"

"No problem!" the other replies, to spare the other from having to finish. Kiku doubts it's out of guessing this time, out of knowing what he wants to say. But it is out of understanding. A trait Alfred is showing an uncharacteristically large amount of today. It's a side he hasn't seen of the other, not in awhile.

They sit in silence for a while, as Kiku slowly sips at his tea. It is a long pause, bordering on awkward.

Eventually, the guilt of keeping the other up any longer gets to the Asian. "I will be fine on my own. I don't want to keep you up any longer than I already have."

"Nah…it's fine. I'm not even tired, really," he insists, but the yawn he stifles shortly after ruins his cover.

"G…goodnight, Alfred," Kiku says with a smile.

Alfred shrugs, giving in. "I'm upstairs if you need anything. First room on the left." He waves, before heading up the staircase. "G'night!"

Kiku himself isn't very tired. Not after everything that just happened, at any rate. He finishes his tea, before returning to the living room. It's a mess, empty cans and other miscellaneous party debris strewn around.

The least he can do is clean up a little, to pay Alfred back for letting him stay the night. Besides, it will help him clear his mind. And so he bends down, gathering up the wrappers and throwing them out, placing the empty cans and dirty plates in the sink. It takes a couple trips to get all of it off the floor.

Momentarily, he considers looking for a vacuum, but decides against it. The noise might wake his hosts. Instead, he heads into the kitchen and cleans the dishes, leaving them in the rack to dry. The cans he rinses, before placing them on the counter, ready to be recycled.

Drying his hands, he truly takes in the kitchen. It's cleaner than he would've guessed, most likely of Arthur's doing. He can't picture Alfred housecleaning, somehow. And it is Arthur's house after all.

_Arthur's_ house.

_Oh._

He mentally reprimands himself for not thinking of this earlier. That explains why it looks familiar—_so_ familiar—but is not quite…

And he stops his thoughts before they can progress. It's been a year since all of that happened. A year and a summer, which was long enough to forget about most anything. Long enough to let it pass, become past buried beneath more recent memories. They had agreed that was for the best, and so they had let it be forgotten. With everything else going on.

Or at least Kiku had thought. But after what Arthur said tonight…

The Asian shakes his head. He needs to let it go. Alfred certainly has. They are all friends. Just friends. That is what matters.

At a loss for what else to do, Kiku heads back to the couch, and curls up underneath the blanket. It's the first time he's slept anywhere but in his own bed in quite some time, and now that there's nothing else to think about, thoughts of his computer come rushing back. His poor computer…

* * *

**I'm going somewhere with this. I promise. **


	5. Chapter 5

"Hm…" The blond sticks his tongue out in concentration, pushing it against the corner of his mouth as he leans in further.

There is a rattle of metal against metal. Not a loud noise, but loud enough to make Kiku shudder. His poor computer…

The shuffling goes on for a length of time, accompanied by the occasional _bang_ or _thud_. With every sound, the smaller boy tenses. Briefly he considers getting earplugs, to try and keep the sound out. But, no, that's ridiculous. A new level of ridiculousness in regards to this issue that he is not willing to take. Not just yet.

And then there is a sigh. A great big one, filled with all the emotions and connotations Kiku is dreading.

"It looks…_perfect_." Alfred says the word with a nuance the other has never before heard used with the word. Like a curse almost, definitely towards the negative end of the spectrum. "I guess all there's left to do is call tech support. Should I…?"

"I'll do it," Kiku volunteers, a set in his voice and his demeanor that he didn't know he had felt until just now. This is _his_ computer, _his_ problem…_he_ should be the one dealing with.

An hour later, the remains of that attitude are crumbling at an alarming rate.

"I'm sorry…I don't know." A pause, listening. "My computer is unbootable. I can't…safe mode?" He finishes, as a question, looking towards the blond. Alfred scuffles over to the reassembled computer, following directions as Kiku relays them to him, step by step.

"No…it doesn't seem to be working," Kiku frowns, just a little. But a little goes a long way with the older boy, Alfred has come to learn. "I…I don't know. It won't start Windows. I don't…I'm sorry."

More dialogue from the other line. A veritable stream of it, by the way Kiku holds the phone to the side of his head with both hands, listening intently, as he always does. Always the good student, always paying attention.

"My friend checked the internal structure. He said it looked all right." Another bought of words from the other end. Kiku's lips are starting to tremble, Alfred can see. His hands are shaking where they hold the phone. But the other side of the conversation continues to go on.

"A-Ah…I see," the Asian says eventually, shifting a little. He looks about ready to burst into tears. Again, like he did at the start of all this. The thought makes something deep inside Alfred twist uncomfortably.

He tries to capture the other's attention, crawling in front of him where he's sitting on the bed. "What's going on?" he mouths with a hint of a whisper. Kiku doesn't answer, only shakes his head, continuing to listen to the speaker. So attentive, even when upset like this as he is.

He continues to be half an hour later, when the first tear slips out of his eye. His left eye, traveling down his cheek to the corner of his mouth, shrinking as it leaves a shining trail.

That pang plucks at Alfred again. He hates to see his friends upset, hates to see others making his friends upset. He hates it especially when there is nothing he can do.

"A-Ah…I see. I don't—yes, of course, I understand, I…" Kiku's right hand curls in front of his mouth, the way it so often does when his emotions finally seep through into some sort of expression. An expression he doesn't want anyone else to see. "I'm sorry, I…"

There's something about seeing the smaller boy talking so submissively into the phone, his hand placed in front of him like a shield, a barrier, his cheek shining with the aftermath of a few tears, which makes Alfred move. In a rush of emotion, he stands up, grabbing the wireless communication device from his friend, and listening to the other line, eyebrows creased.

"-afraid there isn't enough information available to answer your problem. It could be a multitude of things. I suggest having it worked on by—" Alfred hangs up before the woman on the other end can finish. Fuming, he turns around, looking for somewhere to place the phone, looking at something—for something?

Upon locating the phone's charger, he puts it in place. He can feel the other boy's eyes watching him, with some sort of emotion he can't name.

It's when he hears the slightest of snuffles behind him that he turns, his heart twinging painfully in sympathy. His anger is already fading.

"Kiku…" the boy in question doesn't look up at him upon hearing his name, but rather shifts on the bed, so that he is facing half away from his friend. Bringing his knees to his chest—carefully, slowly, as if he will shatter if he moves too fast—he buries his face in the fabric. His arms wrap around his legs, hugging them tightly, as if to hold himself together.

"I'll fix this, I promise." Alfred says the words, not knowing what he's going to do exactly, but knowing he will make it happen. To the best of his ability, and then some.

"_Kiku_…" the name comes out so full of emotion, so saturated with desire to help, as the blond extends his hand, reaching out to place it on the other boy's shoulder.

To his surprise—and dismay, almost—Kiku jerks away from the touch before it can even settle on him. "Alfred…I…" his voice is muffled, mumbling, and the blond wishes he could hear it, and understand it, because he knows how much the other dislikes repeating himself, especially in situations like this.

Thankfully, Kiku seems to realize his self-imposed audio-inhibitions of his own accord, and lifts his head from his knees. But he doesn't look at Alfred, rather, looks away at the wall. "Thank you for everything, but just…_can you please leave?_"

Alfred winces. He knows Kiku doesn't mean that, at least not in the way it came out, but it hurts nonetheless. Still, he realizes a plea when he hears it. Smiling that guilty smile of his—as if this is all somehow his fault, something he should have been able to stop, to fix before all this—he makes his way towards the door.

Before shutting it completely, he looks back one last time. Kiku has not moved, sitting still as a statue, only shaking ever so slightly. Sighing, Alfred turns, shutting the door entirely, and heads down the stairs.

Hearing his footsteps, Yao emerges from the kitchen, dressed in work clothes.

"How did it go?" he asks with a faint curiosity, though it is obvious he can already tell the answer from the blonde's appearance.

"Eh…not well," Alfred admits, honestly, for once not trying to hide everything behind that goofy smile of his. "I'm going to check out some stuff when I get home, and see what I can find but…I don't know."

"And last night?"

For a second, Alfred stares at Yao blankly, not comprehending the question's subject in the midst of the computer tragedy. But then it clicks, and he smiles, just a little wistfulness remaining. "Fine, fine…he even cleaned up a bit. The wrappers and junk left over from the guys. He really didn't have to do that."

"But he did," Yao returns, with just the vaguest teasing glimmer to his eyes as he continued. "That's how I raised him, after all. I'm glad I wasn't a total failure at it."

"Yep," Alfred responds, not knowing what else to say.

And then something occurs to him. How _Yao_ raised him? What about their parents? Alfred has never really bothered to ask about them, has never really even registered their absence, assuming they have been at work, or something of the like (like his own). But what if…?

"What about your parents?" the question is out, before he can consider anything behind it. The fact he should really be asking Kiku this himself, and all that.

"Oh…" Yao's mouth opens in an image of the word. "Kiku hasn't told you about the accident?"

_Accident?_ Something inside Alfred twists, and falls. "What accident?"

"Oh…" the brunette repeats, though a different emotion fills this exhale. Sadness? Regret? Hesitance? "I assumed after all these years…here, come sit."

Alfred does as asked, taking a seat on the couch in the living room, as Yao sits down across from him in a chair. He's never really spoken to Kiku's older brother before. In passing, as any friend speaks to another friend's parent. But not like this. Not about something like this. However, he's too shocked, too dumbstruck to feel awkward about it.

"It happened a while ago…" Yao begins, watching Alfred's expression carefully. "Kiku had been begging them to take him to some movie, some anime thing—I can't even remember—and they had finally given in. He never asked for much, even when he was little, so it really didn't take that much. They went to the movie. I was working so, it was just the three of them. I…I really hope…that they had a good time. I imagine they did. "

Yao looks away now, his voice catching a little. Alfred's heart sinks, fearing the end of this tale. "There was a storm that night. A really bad thunderstorm. My boss actually let me go home a little early, so that I was able to avoid the worst of it. I got home, and started making dinner, assuming they'd be back soon. But…they weren't. I waited, and waited. I finished dinner, but figured I'd wait until they got back to eat. And just…minutes turned to hours, and hours passed and passed…And soon enough it was midnight, and I hadn't heard anything from them.

"I decided to call them. I called my father first, but he had left his phone home. He did that a lot…he was always a little absent-minded. So then I tried my mother, and…it rang and rang…and I was about to hang up, when someone picked up. But…it wasn't my mother. It was a police officer."

Yao is looking down at his hands now, fidgeting. Lifting a hand to his face every now and again. "He asked…he asked who I was. I told him my name, and then I asked who he was, and what was going on. I guess…he figured out who I was soon enough. He became really silent...really quiet. And then he just told me. Told me that they had gotten in an accident: a bad one. Several cars were involved. I guess the first two cars hit, one of which was our car…and it was on the highway, so the next few drivers…couldn't stop…

"They told me…they told me that there had been deaths. Five of them, and quite a few injuries. _Five_ _dead_. Including the woman the phone had belonged to. _My mother_. And…my father was still tangled up in the wreckage. They hadn't been able to get him out yet, but they were pretty sure…

"I just…I couldn't think straight. 'My brother!' I started yelling at them...grabbed my keys, put on shoes. 'What about my brother?' And…it was quiet on the other end. I just…froze, listening. And then I heard voices in the background, the officer talking to someone. 'He's in the hospital,' he said finally, and I…I had never been so relieved. I hung up, and drove immediately to the hospital and…"

Yao glances up, the smile on his face catching Alfred off guard. "He was _alive_. He spent a few weeks in the hospital, and had to go back months after for follow-up appointments. But he was fine. I mean…not fine, fine…after all that, but…physically. And I was nearly eighteen by that point, so a few months after, I became his legal guardian."

"How…how old was he?" the blond asks, dreading the answer.

"Eight," Yao answers, an odd tone in his voice. "Almost nine."

"God…" Alfred runs his hands through his hair, burying his face in his palms. "I can't believe he never told me, he never…"

"He probably didn't want you to worry," Yao assures, wiping a hand over his face. Were there tears? Alfred had been too caught up in the narrative to notice. "He's always been like that…especially since then. Worrying about others before himself. I just…I thought you should know."

"I…I appreciate it," the blond manages to force out, getting to his feet. "I'll…I'll stop by in a few days again. Or something. Once I figure out more about the computer."

"All right," Yao stands, still more somber than his usual self. "Drive carefully!" He adds, in some horrible attempt at dark-humor.

Alfred never drove more cautiously.


	6. Chapter 6

"Alfred!" the blond looks up from the screen where he is clicking away, chasing after another possible theory. He hasn't had much luck yet, and it's concerning. Most computer troubles are fairly common and have at least some sort of record.

"I'm heading to the store," Arthur's head pokes into the room, "do you need anything?"

"Um…" he scratches his head, gazing off to the side a bit. "…Hot Pockets? The new ones with the hamburger in them. Uh…wotsitcalled…"

"Oh, _come on_!" the shorter boy enters the room fully, vexation clear in his tone. "The day you forget the name of that blasted frozen junk food of yours is the day hell freezes over. What is wrong with you?"

"I didn't forget!" Alfred insists, offense dripping from every word.

"Didn't you?" two thick eyebrows raise, in a challenge.

"I…" blue eyes stare pointedly off to the side. His brow creases in concentration, as he tries to think of the particular name. Somehow, it evades him. Just as he thinks he's onto it, that faintest trace of a hint slips away.

"Side Shots?" the Brit fills in, before sighing. "You really ought to come with me or something. I understand you're dead set on fixing Kiku's computer, but it won't do anyone any good if you drive yourself mad looking for it. Sometimes breaks help."

Alfred returns the sigh, rotating in his desk chair so that he's facing the older boy. The fairly obvious concern snatches his attention. His cousin has never been one to show such a thing outright, not since he used to come during holidays to visit. Not since he came to live in America.

"I just…you know how important this is to him," the taller blond meets his gaze, somewhat beseechingly. "I can't just take a break. I _need_ to fix this for him. He's my best friend…that's what friends do for each other. "

"It's not like it's going to kill him," Arthur frowns, sitting down on the bed, and crossing his legs at the knee. Expectantly, he waits for an answer.

Alfred inhales, exhales, runs his hands through his hair in exasperation, before repeating the process. How to phrase this, how to even begin to explain how completely necessary this all is. How to justify the bags that have been growing darker and darker under his eyes since that first sleepless night, the night he'd gotten back from Kiku's.

"…he was crying when I left," he says finally, in a rush of a breath, trying to convey everything he is feeling on the subject with that single sentence. "How can I stop trying to help after that, even for a minute?"

"…crying?" green eyes widen. "Surely you must be…I mean…"

"I know what I saw," Alfred shakes his head, gaze drifting away from his cousin's. "You didn't see him. He looked like his best friend just died."

_Maybe that's because it did_, something inside him retorts. _His computer is his life. What will he do without it?_

I silence stretched between the two of them, then. Oddly enough, it's a calm silence, a good silence. A silence for them both to collect their thoughts_ ._

"Well…it won't do him any good if you make yourself ill with all this," Arthur frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. "I mean, what would I tell your parents? I'm supposed to be taking care of you."

Alfred utters a little forced chuckle, appreciating the effort. The older boy hardly ever tries to make jokes.

"So…just take the day off," the request comes out more like a demand. "It's past noon anyway. I'm sure it won't make that much of a difference."

"Fine," Alfred gives in, sticking out his tongue in a childish manner. He can't help but laugh a little—genuinely, this time—when Arthur gets up in a huff and leaves. The older boy is such a mother hen sometimes. Even though he has only been on this side of the pond for a little over two years now, Alfred can hardly remember what life used to be like. Before Arthur came over, before Matthew…

_Matthew. _Alfred slaps himself, instantly feeling guilty. Getting so caught up in all of this that he forgot to go visit his own brother.

Pulling on some proper clothing, before searching for his keys and a pair of matching socks amid the clutter, he tries to recall the last time he visited his twin. How long has it been? Not that long, surely. He went during exam week sometime, didn't he? He must have.

It takes him a couple of minutes to realize that his search is in vain. He must have left the keys in the kitchen, and the only socks within reach are from two quite different pairs. Shrugging, he pulls them on, regardless.. Arthur isn't here to bug him about his style of dress, anyway.

He remembers those first few weeks when he refused to leave his brother's side. Screw protocol, screw what the doctors and nurses said, that he couldn't have any visitors. He had stayed there for nearly three weeks straight before he'd been finally pulled away. By Ivan, no less.

Somewhere along the way, that changed. His visits had become less and less frequent, his thoughts tending to focus on other things. By no means had he forgotten about his brother: he still made a point to visit at least once a month, often more. But he just…

He just what? Stopped feeling the need to go? Stopped feeling guilty? Felt he had fulfilled his quota, repaid his brother?

_No_, something inside him insists. _Of course not._ He visited his brother because he loved him and was concerned about him. Because he wanted to do all that he could for his twin, to support him as best he could through this.

But something else, something darker, something that had seized on Matthew's words from so long ago, begs to differ. It was his way of apologizing, of trying to make it up to him. Too little, too late. As it always seemed to be, when he thought about it.

Shaking his head, Alfred makes his way out of his room, keeping an eye out for his keys. Perhaps he'll ask Matt about all this when he arrives? Voice his concerns?

Probably not. Heroes don't give others reasons to worry about them. And the last thing Matthew needs right now is another thing to worry about.

* * *

**Short chapter is short. My apologies. I just did not want to get onto the next topic in this chapter, and so couldn't think of anything to add.**

**I'm not going to beg for reviews, because I'm not that type of author. However, I will say, more reviews = faster chapters. I just feel more encouraged to write when I know there are people waiting.**

**Special thanks to **Candybook**, my one consistent reviewer ^^ I feel I'm more or less writing this for you sometimes, though, don't get me wrong: I would gladly continue to do so.**

**And just out of curiosity...does the fact that this story in present tense bother anyone? I know most fanfiction tends not to be.**


	7. Chapter 7

The front door is open when Alfred arrives at Kiku's house, his visit to his brother finished. Not open completely, but unlocked. Alfred knows he should have knocked, really, should have rang the doorbell, but he never was one to follow such socially correct manners. And it is not as if he has any bad intentions. Feeling significantly justified in doing so, he steps in side, looking around.

"Hello?" Alfred's heart sinks a little as he hears Yao's voice, not Kiku's.

"Hey!" he greets, trying his best to appear cheerful and carefree, though he feels anything but, as Yao comes out of the kitchen.

The man's sleeves are rolled up to the elbow, a pink apron with Hello Kitty's expressionless face plastered across the front. Leave it to Kiku's brother to own such attire.

"Alfred…" he says, in more of a greeting than anything else, before getting right to the point. "You're here for Kiku, right? He's upstairs in his room…doing something or other. Any plans I should know about?"

"No, just…" his façade falters a little, but doesn't fall apart. "I just figured I'd stop in to see how he's doing…since I was in the area. Just to hang out."

"Ah, alright…" Yao smiles, waving a little, as he returns to his work. House-cleaning, maybe, from the looks of his clothing. "I'm down here if you two need anything."

" 'kay!" the blond replies, moving towards the stairs. It's a bit odd, just walking into Kiku's house, and then just walking up to his room…all without said boy. But he shrugs it off: if Yao had seen a problem with it, he would've said so. The man, above all things, is protective of his sibling.

"Kiku?" Alfred calls, as he climbs up the steps. He turns down the hallway, stopping before his friend's closed bedroom door.

"Kiku?"

Still no answer. He knocks a few times, soft enough not to startle, at first, but increasingly harder, reaching a steady pound. Silence greets his efforts.

"Kiku…I'm coming in." Alfred opens the door, heart-fluttering slightly with concern for what he might find. He thinks back to that day not too long ago, when he left the smaller boy in tears. Right before he learnt the truth from Yao.

He walks in softly, letting one foot sink into the carpeting before he starts to move the other. There's a lump in the bed, curled into the sheets. A manga volume is propped open beside the little tuft of black hair, just barely caught in the faint grip of a limp hand.

_Asleep_. Asleep at…4:23 PM, Alfred realizes with confusion as his gaze finds the small digital clock on the night stand. Kiku has never been one for naps, going to bed at a decent hour, and waking only hours after sunrise.

Moving closer, Alfred looks down at the sleeping boy, a warm feeling tugging the corners of his lips into a soft smile. He kneels down beside the bed, watching the calm rise and fall of the lump, swathed in blanks, despite the warm weather.

The manga's cover is familiar. Fullmetal Alchemist: Alfred has a few copies of his own at home, though, his are in English, of course. He remembers first learning of Kiku's bilingualism. Alfred had been amazed, going on and on about how cool it was, and if this meant that Kiku had some cool Japanese-only stuff, like those new Japanese videogames, and if so, could he come over and play with them sometime?

The older boy had smiled softly, an embarrassed flush crossing his cheeks, as he nodded shyly. A yes. To what, to all of his questions? In acknowledgement of something, but what exactly? Kiku never was an easy one to read, and Alfred had never been gifted in that department.

Sighing to himself—with remorse, with loss, with content?—he slips the volume out from the boy's hand, placing his thumb where Kiku's had been between the pages, as he looks for something to mark it with. A little stack of post-its on the desk catch his eye, and he snags one, inserting it, before placing the book on the nightstand.

Crisis averted—he knows how much Kiku dislikes creasing the pages of his books, accidentally or otherwise—Alfred makes his way over to the computer, sitting down in front of it.

For a long time he just stares at the machine, as if willing it to fix itself and solve this whole fiasco. But there is no magical whir of repair, no indication of this taking place. It just sits there, motionless. As any inanimate object should be, really.

What is he going to do about this? Even with his extensive knowledge of the physical aspects of computers, even with Kiku's expertise at programming, the pair of them has no solution. He tries to think of someone else who might be able to help. Anyone else. But Kiku and Alfred are the techies of their group of friends. If they can't fix it, no one else will be able to.

A stirring from behind him catches his attention, and he turns around to see that Kiku is moving in his sleep, pushing against the blanket cocoon with the faintness of someone whose mind is off elsewhere. His face pops out of the blankets, gently nuzzling into the pillow, as his body finishes shifting and once again falls still.

Alfred watches, waiting to see if the boy will move again, if he'll wake up. When he shows no sign of doing so, the blond inches a little closer, curiosity getting the best of him.

Kiku's eyes are closed softly, no expression or crease in his features to indicate a bad dream. The skin around them is puffy, though. From tears? It has been days since he last saw the boy: surely he has not cried again since? But the evidence is all there.

Sighing—in slight frustration, this time, in sympathy—Alfred gently brushes a few strands of hair away from his friend's face. His eyelids twitch a little, but remain shut. He looks so cute like this. So young…so vulnerable. It's hard to believe that he's older than the blond.

"I'll fix this," Alfred promises—to himself, to Kiku—letting the dark hair fall through his fingers as he pulls away. "I hate seeing this hurt you…I hate seeing you hurt. I'll fix this…"

Kiku shifts the slightest bit, still asleep. Unaware, most likely, that his friend is even here. Alfred has never taken the other boy for a heavy sleeper, but he supposes these are not normal circumstances.

With renewed determination, Alfred gets to his feet, exiting the room as carefully as he came. He doesn't bother to disturb Yao from his work again, simply walking out the front door and closing it quietly behind him.

He has his mission, his goal, his duty. And, as the hero, he will achieve it. Without doubt, _he will_.

* * *

**I am so sorry, everyone! To make you guys all wait like this, after saying I would update faster if I got more reviews...and I did. Your reviews from last chapter made me really happy. I've just been busy with the start of school and college applications and everything, and I lost where I wanted to go with this story, and just didn't feel like writing. I'm very sorry ^^'**

**And this is a bit of a filler chapter, to boot. I think I have a path in mind now, though, so writing will be easier. However, I'm also trying to start up work again on From Child to Hero. We'll see how things work out. **


	8. Chapter 8

Kiku sits on the couch, staring blankly at the screen. Watching television has never been a hobby of his, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

And it is not really that bad, he supposes. He sees what people mean now, how television can be addicting. Already he can feel the worries disappearing into the back of his mind, pushed back to be dealt with at a later time. A defense mechanism, a method of escape: that is what television is. Numbing.

"Kiku?" a voice calls from the other room. Yao's voice. Kiku doesn't look away from the screen, merely nodding in acknowledgement. He forgets his older brother is in another room and cannot see the movement.

"What are you watching?" Kiku vaguely registers the sound of footsteps coming nearer.

"Hitler?" Yao raises an eyebrow, watching the program for a few minutes before reaching for the remote. With a flash, the television becomes black. "Kiku, you've got to get off your butt and do something. Aiya…this isn't healthy!"

Kiku gives him a blank look, turning instead to look out the window. Sighing, Yao sits down on the couch beside his younger brother. "What's bothering you?" he asks, the tone in his voice a mixture of concern and…confusion? "I know that your computer troubles have been hard for you, but I feel like there's something else. You're not getting sick, are you?"

"No…" the younger boy hedges, not meeting his older brother's eyes. "I'm fine. Really."

The older male shakes his head in disbelief, before turning to the remote in his hand.

"Hm…let's put on something more _cheerful_ to improve the atmosphere." A click of a button, and an all too familiar program with a certain white feline pops on. Normally Kiku would give the show a chance, at least taking a few minutes to appreciate the adorableness of the characters. Today, however, he is in no such mood.

Predictably, Yao focuses in on the television almost immediately, looking absorbed in the on goings. But Kiku has long since realized that his older brother is adept at multitasking.

"When I was your age, I was hardly home." Yao narrates, already getting himself into the mindset. "Between work, and clubs, and socializing—I was very busy. Even during the summer."

"I would seek employment if you would let me," Kiku murmurs under his breath, leaning back against the couch ever so slightly.

"I might make an exception just to get you out of the house for a little while," Yao responds, half-jokingly. When Kiku reached working age, his older brother had made it clear that he did not want his younger sibling to work. He had claimed it was because he wanted him to commit himself to his studies. Kiku knew better. That wasn't the full reason at all, not entirely.

"Maybe I'll buy myself some Calculus books…prepare for my studies next year." Kiku suggests, half-serious. The last thing he wants to do right now is learn about Calculus of all things, especially if it is anything like Pre-Calculus as the name would imply. But he knows his brother is not about to let this go, and tries to think of some other productive occupations that might get him off his case.

"I thought you were signed up to take Statistics next year," Yao muses aloud, eyes fixed to the screen, but with ears perked, listening. "After Pre-Calculus, I thought you were put off by anything with a similar name."

"…it's never too early to start preparation." He mentally curses himself forgetting his course scheduling. Really, he should be beyond such screw-ups. But he isn't himself, with all that is going on. He isn't himself at all.

"Why don't you go spend some time with Alfred or something?" Yao inquires, hardly glancing away from his program. "He hasn't stopped by since last week, has he?"

"Last week?" Kiku looks over at his older brother, absolutely perplexed. He hasn't seen much of the blond in awhile now, certainly longer than a week. "Are you sure?"

"Yep," the older Asian replies succinctly, eyes still fixated on the glowing screen. "Around three-ish, on Saturday, I think. I just sent him up."

_Three-ish_, Kiku repeats to himself mentally. He was asleep around that time, if he remembers correctly. Taking a nap. Well, reading, actually: it had just become a nap of its own accord, as he was so tired. He has never been a deliberate nap-taker.

"I think I'll give him a call." Kiku speaks aloud, falling into his usual habit of making those around him aware of his actions, so as to avoid any possible confusion. His brother is prone to keeping tabs on him, so he has done his best to make it easier. That is, when he is in the mood to do so. The list of people that get on his nerves is very short, but his older sibling has managed to make it into the selective space. It must be a family thing.

Yao glances up then, for the first time since he turned the television back on, and watches his younger sibling with a soft smile on his face. Kiku squirms a little under the gaze, not quite knowing how to respond, unsure of which exact cogs are turning inside his brother's head.

"Is there something you want to say?" he asks instead, making his move so that the pressure is off him, deterred for the time being. Where had this tension between them come from? Had it always been there, even back when they were a complete family? For the life of him, Kiku cannot remember.

"I was just thinking," Yao answers vaguely, but there remains that hint of expectance in the air, telling Kiku that there are still more words to come, that the thought is not yet complete. He waits.

"Perhaps…maybe it's a good thing that this happened. That your computer broke."

Kiku jerks slightly, expression caught in the crossroads between hurt, anger, and confusion, settling somewhere near aghast. Seeing the change in expression, the longer-haired male raises his hands in the universal gesture of goodwill, silently pleading to be heard out. Kiku tries to relax slightly, tries to calm down and _listen_. He is a good listener.

"All I mean is…that it's good to see you spending more time with your friends, especially Alfred. He's a good kid, and you've always been such a recluse. It's nice to see you coming out of your shell, if only a little, aru. Ever since you and Heracles broke up—"

"That…!" Kiku starts, but soon falls into an irritated silence. It's his turn to make a move, to say something, but suddenly his thoughts are in a buzz, none of them coming forth to clarity. He flushes in annoyance, in frustration, in _something_.

"It's not like that," he says at last, fidgeting with his fingers. "We aren't like that, he's not…and I…" Yao smiles understandingly, placing a hand on Kiku's.

"These things take time," he advises, looking straight into Kiku's eyes. Kiku has never been comfortable with eye contact, so direct, so personal. So exposing. "Just don't rush into anything. I know how things were between you and Heracles, and—"

"We aren't…!" Kiku begins again, but the rest of the sentence doesn't follow, doesn't complete itself in his head, let alone make it out of his mouth to audibility.

"Just relax, and be yourself. Alfred's a good kid; he really cares about you. You just have to give him a chance and let him help you. You don't have to go through everything on your own."

"…"

A long silence stretches between the two of them, Yao waiting for Kiku to respond, to take his turn, and Kiku at a loss for words and actions.

After awhile, Kiku shakes his head and gets up. "I'm going to call Alfred."

"All right, aru~" Yao responds, eyes once again glued to the screen. The expression on his brother's face has become too much of a grin for Kiku's liking.

**A slightly quicker update, yes? I already have a little bit of the next chapter written, so I hope to have that up within the next few days. I'll be on Holiday break starting tomorrow, so I will have more time to work on things. I've been meaning to get back to FCtH, though…so we'll see what ends up happening. **


	9. Chapter 9

"Ice skating?" Kiku repeats aloud, turning the suggestion into an inquiry.

"Yeah!" Alfred continues, looking thoroughly enthused. "Why not? I haven't gone ice skating in forev~er!"

"But it's summer," Kiku counters, though he can already feel his resolve weakening.

"So? That's what ice-skating rinks are for!" Alfred looks down at him with those blue eyes, so compelling, so utterly convincing, that Kiku cannot come up with a word to say in response. It isn't an unreasonable demand, and Kiku cannot remember the last time he has seen the other boy look so excited. Fighting this is a lost cause, through and through.

"All right," he relents, and the words are barely out of his mouth before Alfred presses his foot to the pedal.

Shocked, Kiku _clutches_, something, anything in reach. He ends up with the passenger side door handle and a fistful of Alfred's sleeve.

"Oh, right…" Alfred speaks in sudden, guilty remembrance. He slows down, smiling sheepishly. "Forgot, forgot…sorry, dude."

"It's—it's fine," Kiku stutters, flushing as he removes his left hand from the fabric. The two continue on towards the ice-skating rink in muted silence, dripping with unsaid words.

They park, and Kiku savors the feel of solid ground beneath his feet again. Briefly, he wonders if he'll ever get over this attachment, this feeling of relief every time he steps out of the car. A hand on his arm startles him out of his reverie, and he looks up. At Alfred.

"Hey…" the blonde begins, the sudden hesitance in his voice so completely foreign, that Kiku is a little concerned. "You alright?"

Kiku doesn't meet his eyes, brushing a piece of hair behind his ear. "Y-yes…I'm fine."

For a moment, Alfred's eyes don't leave his form, watching as if about to say something more. Kiku shifts under the gaze, suddenly feeling unsettled and flustered, his thoughts unconsciously drifting back to his older brother's words from earlier on. But then Alfred smiles, that disarming goofy smile of his, and the pressure is gone.

Kiku lets out a breath of relief he hadn't known he'd been holding, before the grip on his arm moves down to his wrist, and he feels himself being tugged along.

Twenty-three minutes later finds Kiku at the edge of the ice rinks, watching the other patrons zoom by. The place is surprisingly busy in the summer, though, he supposes the temperature would be a nice change from the heat outside. Still, the crowds are nearly akin to those at beaches, at amusement parks. Alfred is in their midst, whizzing around at an insanely fast pace.

A shiver runs down Kiku's spine, through his limbs, and it is not only from the chill permeating the air. He is wearing light pants and a t-shirt, typical summer clothing neither suited to such low temperatures nor a pastime as potentially dangerous as this one. Moving at high speeds on a slippery hard surface with blades attached to one's feet: certainly thin cloth is not at all protective enough.

Kiku stands, knifed feet and all, watching, holding onto the barrier dividing ice from the spectator area, and anticipating the moment his absence will be noticed.

It takes Alfred a while to notice—at least, it feels a while to Kiku. After hours, minutes, seconds, the blonde glances over his way, a look of disappointment furrowing his brow. Rapidly, he skids over to the opening Kiku is standing by, placing his hands on the barrier and leaning down on them so that their eyes are level. So blue, against the flushed cheeks and tousled hair, they shine with apparent concern, even through the glasses.

"What's wrong?" he asks, tone hesitant, worried, _patient_. Kiku tries to remember the last time Alfred has been patient.

"N-nothing," he murmurs in response, not meeting blue, brown searching anywhere but.

Alfred doesn't move away, doesn't straighten out and shrug it off. He leans closer instead, so that he is mere inches from Kiku, head inclined so that his gaze has to focus upwards. A tremor pierces the smaller boy, from his throat to his heart, and his mind is suddenly blank with chaos, an overactive static buzz. He waits, frozen.

"It's okay," Alfred assures, reaching out a hand, taking Kiku's in his own. He straightens up suddenly—there is that smile!—and Kiku feels breathless, alert, flustered. A tug on his hand follows, like from before, urging and insistent, but reassuring. "I won't let you fall."

Kiku can't help but believe that voice, that hand around his, though the panic flares up in his chest nonetheless.

"J-just…go slowly…p-please," he stutters, shaking as he takes the first few steps onto the ice.

"Don't worry," Alfred grins, breath forming a gentle white mist. "I know you don't like speeding."

Kiku had thought it difficult standing in his skates on the floor, but the ice was a whole new arena. The slightest off move, the slightest shudder, and he could just feel himself slipping. Faltering.

"You're doing good!" Alfred laughs, picking up the pace from a debilitated turtle's crawl, to more of a speedy snail. The smaller boy stiffens, grasping his friend's hand so tightly that it earns a wince.

"S-sorry," Kiku winces in sympathy, but he can't release his grip, as if an electric current is coursing through the appendage, spasming it into immobility.

"It's fine," Alfred says, smiling again, moving just slightly faster. The other skaters still whizz by them, even some of the children. Kiku continues clutching.

"You know, Matty used to be like this when he was younger," the taller boy voices, absently, the smile adopting a more wistful hint. The laughter he manages sounds forced. "He got over it soon enough, though, and then he was pulling circles around me!"

"I-is that so?" Kiku returns the smile softly, suddenly focusing on the conversation. "How…how is he?"

But just as he is finished speaking, his skate catches on a nick in the ice, and he stumbles, instinctively latching onto Alfred with his free hand. The larger boy jolts himself, but is able to catch the other in a sort of half embrace. Kiku can feel his heart racing, pounding, as Alfred manages to get them both on their feet again.

"…see? I told you I'd catch you."

Kiku laughs, nervous shaky laughter, but he nods in agreement. They stand like that for a moment, skaters passing around them, casting the occasional backward glance. Twin puffs of white emit, and they are looking at each other, blue into brown, and vice versa.

And then Kiku glances away and the moment is broken. He coughs lightly, withdrawing from Alfred's personal bubble, though his grip on the blonde's hand remains firm. When the younger boy tries to extract his fingers, Kiku unconsciously holds tighter, refusing to let his only form of support go.

Alfred smiles at this reaction, but continues to pull away, gently. "Trust me for a second."

Reluctant, Kiku releases the extremity, and it takes all his willpower not to clutch at his friend. Once free, Alfred brushes off his shorts, before slipping an arm around Kiku's shoulders, under his arm, earning a jump from the other boy that nearly sends him toppling again.

"Relax!" he chuckles, pushing the hair from his eyes. "It's easier to hold you this way."

With the justification, Kiku loosens, if only a little. They begin skating again, slowly, but fast enough for Kiku to hold onto Alfred every time they pass over a rough patch. After awhile, he stops letting go. He can almost feel the smile on his friend's face, a countenance he doesn't dare look up at, not at this speed, not while driving. Though, he supposes, Alfred is really the one in the driver's seat. Something inside Kiku's chest glows with warmth. Silence elapses between the two, comfortable, content. Until Alfred breaks it.

"Matty…" he begins, and Kiku instantly rewinds to their conversation before the fall. How completely he has forgotten.

"He's been doing…doing better." Kiku notes the hesitance, the pause, and bites his lip. "I just visited him a few days ago. He's…he's improving. I think. They said he might be able to come home soon, if he keeps this up."

"Ah..."

"I'll have to move back in, to watch him…"

"Ah…"

"Arty will be…" he trails off, not looking at Kiku.

"Lonely?" Kiku ventures, feeling the movement as Alfred swallows.

"Yeah…but it would be great to have Matty…home again." There's a twist in the second to the last word, an odd pause. Awkward, unnatural. Kiku winces, unconsciously clutching tighter in sympathy, in—

"Watch it!" A child skids in front of them, and Kiku panics, desperately trying to get out of the way. Alfred swerves to the side, leading Kiku along with him. They pass without incidence.

"Kiku…you alright?" The smaller boy is holding onto him tightly, eyes still screwed shut. "Kiku?"

"Y-yes," he answers, briefly, concisely. His dark eyes don't make contact with Alfred's.

They skate on for awhile, reestablishing a rhythm. Then something shifts, and they are speeding up, faster and faster.

"Stop!" Kiku shouts, eyelids clenched. "Alfred, slow down, slow…!"

"Just trust me," he responds, smiling, and almost without thinking, Kiku does. Somehow, somehow he feels secure and _safe_.

After awhile, they stop accelerating. There is a squeeze on his arm, firm, encouraging. Kiku opens his eyes.

They're going fast, really fast. People are moving past them in semi-blurs, and the icy air is biting at his arms, his throat, his eyes. It's so crowded, so full of other skaters, and yet Alfred maneuvers around them with surprising agility. Kiku briefly wonders how talented Matthew must be.

"How is it?" Kiku can feel the laughter against his back, through Alfred's chest. And he grins in return, the corners of his lips quirking upwards of their own accord.

"It is…_fun_," he says, the surprise in his tone betraying his thoughts. Because really, it is fun. Not scary, not terrifying, as things of high speed have been, ever since that day. The speed is exhilarating, almost, electrifying. His heart is pulsing rapidly in his chest, but it isn't from fear or trepidation, but _excitement_.

The laughter grows stronger behind him, a comforting, heart-warming vibration. Kiku cannot remember the last time he has felt so thoroughly warm, inside and out, in such a frigid climate.

* * *

**Sorry for the wait! School has been busy and stuff. I think I have an end in sight for all this…vaguely. It might just take awhile to get there. At this point, I would estimate another 10-11 chapters and most, but probably less. Thank you for all the reviews ^^ Happy President's Day~**


	10. Chapter 10

"Did you have fun?" Yao asks from the kitchen when Kiku slips in through the front door. He's making dinner, a stir fry of sorts, from the smell of it.

With a soft smile, Kiku clicks the lock shut, letting his gaze focus on no where in particular. He's glad that his older brother cannot see his expression from where he is in the other room.

"Yes," the younger boy responds, almost without thinking. An avoidant answer, simply telling the other what he knows he wants to hear. It's instinct. But this really is the truth, isn't it? He _did_ have fun.

"Really?" comes his brother's response, with more than a hint of surprise. Perhaps the authenticity of Kiku's answer was more apparent than he thought.

"We went ice-skating," Kiku answers, not directly to the question, but in a way. More information. He bends down to slip his shoes off, before moving through the hall and into the kitchen.

Yao glances up at him when he enters, spatula in hand, moving around the pan's contents. Stir-fry: he was right.

"I'm glad." Kiku looks up from the sizzling vegetables to see a smile on his older brother's face. Not just his usual grin of contentment, but a real smile, with a certain depth behind it.

"What…?" the younger one half questions, too distracted by his guessed explanations to finish the inquiry.

"You're happy," Yao says, so much more interlacing those two words than is apparent on the surface.

Kiku opens his mouth to respond, to deny the comment, only to realize that he has nothing to say. He _is_ happy. Despite his computer's situation, despite everything.

"Food is ready, aru~" Yao chimes, interrupting his thoughts. He clicks the stove's dial off, lifting the pan to scoop its contents onto two awaiting plates, before moving to the rice cooker to repeat the process.

Smiling fully, for the first time in what feels like ages, Kiku takes the proffered plate from his brother and sits down to eat. Tonight, perhaps, he will actually be able to sleep properly. For the first time, since this all started.

* * *

"I'm home," Arthur greets as he enters through the front door, a bag of groceries in each hand.

Alfred is sprawled on the couch in the living room, staring off into space with a goofy grin on his face, when the sound of his roommate's voice and footsteps reach his ears.

"Hey!" he returns, stumbling off the couch and into the hallway. Seeing the groceries his cousin is holding, he moves past him towards the front door to grab the rest.

When he brushes past the other, however, his cousin steps into his path, smirking at him knowingly. "I see you followed my advice, for once in your life…"

"Aww, come-on; you don't have to be all bitter about it, Arty!" Alfred pokes, though he knows the other is joking. For the most part.

"No, really…I'm glad," the older blond assures, laughing at the look the other boy sends him. "Is there something wrong with me being happy for you?"

"No, just…" Alfred glances down, tracing the lines of the wooden floor with his eyes. He isn't used to the other boy being so open about his feelings; so honest and straight forward. There is a softer side to the roughness, he knows that. A side that doesn't argue and pester, a side that is caring and concerned, rather than cynical and harsh. A side he rarely sees.

"Just what?" Arthur presses, moving past him to the small kitchen, depositing the two bags and beginning to empty the items inside.

"Just…"Alfred is aware he could say the wrong words here. 'Just why do you care? Why, after what I did to you?' The response burns on his lips as soon as the words enter his mind, but he holds them back. Their fragile relationship is something he has worked too hard to repair, to throw it away on mere impulse.

Instead, he tries to lighten the mood, diffuse the tension. "Just…who are you, and what have the aliens done with my cousin?"

Arthur actually chuckles at that, rather than biting back a disparaging retort as he is so usually prone to. He puts away a few boxes before turning to look at his relative, a softness in his expression that Alfred truly wishes he could see more of.

"Aliens don't exist, you dolt…" the words lack their usual surliness, replaced instead by a reluctant fondness.

Alfred smiles, slipping out the door to grab the rest of the groceries.

When he returns, his cousin is already starting dinner. Fish and chips again, most likely, Alfred guesses with a grin. Figuring he'll wait on the food, he plops down in one of the chairs around the small table, sitting in it backwards so that he can rest his head on his arms to watch the other boy.

Not that he's really watching him; more staring off into space on the pretense of doing so. He marks off his mental checklist of the required ingredients, matching those Arthur has gathered to those he knows he needs. Now, it's his turn to feel triumphant.

"So where did you head off to, exactly?" Arthur breads the fish, setting it down into the dish. Somehow, the food he makes tends to look pretty appetizing before entering the oven; that's where the "magic" happens. "Were you out with Kiku?"

"Matty, actually," Alfred responds, unable to restrain a laugh when Arthur jolts lightly, obviously not having anticipated that response. "And then…Kiku."

The shock is gone, replaced with a silence, as Arthur continues cooking. Several minutes pass before he places the food in the oven. He then turns to the potatoes.

"How was he?"

"Kiku? Or Matty?"

"…both." Arthur slices the starches neatly, before placing them in a pan, and adding oil.

"Kiku's pretty good," the triumphant glow behind the glasses doesn't go unnoticed. "I might not be any closer to fixing his computer, but at least I cheered him up some. And that's something…"

"Good to hear," the older blond responds, and there is quiet for a few minutes, filled only by the sounds of cooking.

"What about your brother?" he asks, hesitance clear in his voice this time, knowing how touchy the subject is.

"Matty…was good. The doctors seem to think he's doing better. They said he might even be able to come home in a few months; go back to school. As long as there's someone around to keep an eye on him…"

The older boy doesn't miss the implication. "I suppose you'll be moving back home, then?"

"I guess so…" Alfred isn't too keen on the idea. He hasn't been home since his brother's admittance, only to grab some of his belongings after taking Arthur up on his offer to stay at his place.

His parents are busy people, out working more often than not. It had never really been a concern of his. Not when he had friends to hang out with, games to go to, movies to see. Not before.

With his brother's absence, however, he suddenly found any length of time spent in the house depressive, unbearably lonely. He couldn't stand it, couldn't help but think of the sick irony of it all, how it was nothing more than he deserved.

But, like the coward he knows himself to be, deep down, he had copped out. Escaping to Arthur's, ridding himself of the lingering memories. As much as one can ever forget something like that…

"…he could always move in here."

Alfred has to blink a few times, reminding himself that he's in a conversation. "What?"

"I said…" Smoke is emitting from the stove, the contents beginning to char, though Arthur remain unphased, continuing on. "Matthew could always move in here. It might be a bit crowded with the three of us, but he could squish in your room. Besides, your parents are never home much, and I hardly think you alone would be accurate safe-guarding against…seeing as you can barely take care of yourself, I…"

Alfred smiles, genuinely, knowing that Arthur is merely reverting to his usual method of defense, trying to cover up and not show others exactly how much he cares. Or exactly whom the care is directed towards.

"That would be great." Alfred responds softly, the quietness to his voice earning a glance from his cousin, before he rushes to deposit the meal onto plates.

_That would be really great…_

When Arthur hands him his plate, he knows one thing that he'll be looking forward to upon his brother's return:

His cooking.

* * *

**So. I kind of fell out of love with the Hetalia fandom for awhile. I have been into sooo many other fandoms recently, that Hetalia just got shoved into the backseat without my realizing. However, I seem to have regained my interest a little bit, at least enough to finish this story up. I will try to complete it before I start college at the end of the month, but no promises. I do know where I'm going from here on out, though, so it is not too unfeasible. Expect another 4-5 chapters. At most. Probably.  
**

**My apologies if the characters are out of character! I have not been with the fandom for several many months now**, **and I am a bit out of touch. I also haven't written anything in awhile, so I apologize if my writing is off.** **I reread the entire story before finishing this, so I hope that helped the congruency to some extent. It has been over a year since I started this, however; what can you do.**

**Nonetheless, I hope you guys enjoy~ I'll try not to make you guys wait so long on the next one.**


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